bitter & beauty
by VickyVicarious
Summary: Ema's not happy. She hasn't been for a long time. One of the things she is least happy about is her partnership with Klavier Gavin. [Klema; part of my Quartered series]
1. photograph (16)

I was given a list of prompts with the challenge to write 100 drabbles, each no more than 600 words long. I chose to do things a little differently: instead of one pairing, I'm writing for four of my favorite ones, and attempting to make all the drabbles interconnected and chronological. I'm also picking them at random - shuffled up all the prompt words in a box to make sure. (This is why each chapter has a random number in parentheses as well.)

The summary/title may change as the fic evolves, depending on where the prompts guide me. I have a general idea but can't get too specific for obvious reasons. Also, updates will probably be slow, as I'm cycling my drabbles through each pairing as well as not doing this every day. I'm posting each as a separate story for ease of reading, but they're all in a series if you feel inclined to check the others.

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell you," Ema snarled, waving the latest crumpled-up poster in his face, "I don't want your stinking autographed poster!"

Klavier blinked.

"You know, Fraulein Detective," he purred, his surprise vanishing in a moment. A slow smirk widened across his lips as he leaned in: "I'd be happy to sign anything you want me to."

He didn't emphasize 'anything' in a sleazy way – if anything, the innuendo was less pointed than the deliberate misunderstanding. They hadn't been working together very long, but that seemed to be a constant feature: Klavier always acted like she was being friendly with him, even when she was openly insulting him. It was like he thought her anger was all a shared joke. Sometimes, like now, he'd even tip her a wink after his latest reframing, a smug little see what I did there? gesture that made Ema fantasize about strangling him.

"Great!" she smiled falsely. "I have a resignation letter I'd love for you to sign for me."

Klavier actually laughed. A nice, hearty chuckle, complete with a fond head-shake and warm smile at the end.

"Ahh," he sighed once he was done. "If only it were so easy, ja?"

Ema ground her teeth.

"Listen," she seethed, trying her hardest to remain professional. "I'm kind of busy already with your bullshit investigation, so I'd appreciate if you'd st–"

"Why do you think this is a bullshit investigation?" he interrupted. Ema stiffened up, clamping her mouth shut, but it was too late. Klavier was frowning at her, entirely intent now.

When she didn't reply immediately, the furrow between his eyebrows deepened.

"You do know that I value your opinion," he said, softly.

Ema stood very still.

"Fraulein – Ms. Skye." Klavier leaned in again, voice unforgivably gentle. "I know you're new to this, and I'm not – but we're both young, and I think, talented. If you have a concern, I'll listen."

God, she hated him.

He always got her wrong. Without fail, he seemed to think she was someone else, someone who willingly bantered with him, who enjoyed her work, who believed in the system she was a part of. He wasn't the only prosecutor she worked with, but definitely her most frequent partner, and he seemed to think they made a good pair, that they actually worked well together somehow. He apparently thought she looked up to him, or some bullshit. Thought she doubted her own abilites, that she'd ever want or welcome this sort of pep-talk.

Sure, she was new. But she wasn't insecure, not about this – she was just bitter, too jaded by the clear downfall she'd seen in the legal system to ever think her concerns would make any practical difference. Klavier saying he'd listen didn't mean he actually would.

"….The security photos," Ema admitted, not really expecting anything. "That silhouette doesn't look like our man. Too short and thin, and that's hard to fake."

"Show me," he said though, simple and unexpectedly serious. "Let's review them together with the other evidence this afternoon. If we've been wrong, we'll need to find the true culprit quickly before they skip town."

"Oh," she couldn't quite help saying. "Um, okay."

Klavier looked at her in that fond way again.

"It's a date, then," he grinned, right back to being infuriating. "You like your coffee sweet, I expect?"

* * *

 **wordcount:** 560


	2. two (88)

There was an ice cream cake waiting on her desk. Despite the empty room around her, it had clearly just been set up: neither the ice cream or candle on top had managed to melt more than a drip or two. Ema placed her bag down on the floor, sinking into her desk chair and frowning at the card tucked under the corner of the tray.

She blew out the fire hazard, and picked up the card. As she slid a fingernail under the edge of the envelope, she spotted the flame rearing back up. Frowning a little harder, she blew it out again… Sure enough, it flared a moment later, and with a huff of annoyance, she wet two fingers in her mouth and pinched it out fully.

Dropping the card in the trash – after the candle trick, she knew who had sent this, not that there had been much doubt – Ema leaned back in her chair, plopping her feet up on her desk and putting the entire cake in her lap. She began to eat, keeping an eye on the closet door.

Sure enough, Klavier barely lasted another ten minutes before easing the door open and attempting to sneak out.

"Hi fop," Ema said around mouthful of cake, enjoying the way he straightened guiltily. Served him right for trying to hide from her. "Finally coming out?"

"Oh, a pun," he said lightly, seeming to decide that playing his failure off as intended was the way to go. Like always, she thought with less annoyance than usual. The sugar must be getting to her. " _Guten Abend_ , Detective. How is tonight treating you?"

"Well, it's apparently my birthday," she drawled. "So that's nice, I guess."

"Is it?" Klavier asked. "I should have gotten you a gift! I suppose the joy of my company will have to–"

"Feel free to scram anytime."

He grinned.

"How cruel, _Fraulein._ "

Ema waved him off, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. She noticed Klavier eyeing the dessert on her lap with a raised eyebrow, and scowled at him.

"I'm not sharing, and I'm not saving any for later. Quit looking at me."

Klavier did not quit. Instead, his grin only widened, and he pulled out Detective Santiago's chair to sit next to her.

"I'd never dream of taking your anniversary cake away from you," he teased. "After all, I know how fond you are of chocolate."

"It's too bad my mysterious benefactor didn't crust it in Snackoos," Ema found herself agreeing, almost companionably; yeah, the sugar was _definitely_ getting to her. That or the sleep-deprivation from the giant caseload she'd been saddled with this week. Either way, the realization of what she was doing raised her hackles. "Anyway, what the hell is all this? It's not my anniversary of anything."

" _Ours_ , then...?" Klavier mused, completely unperturbed by her harsher tone. "To two years."

He toasted the air in her direction, then took a sip from his imaginary wineglass. Ema knocked it out of his hand, then smacked his hand itself when he pretended to stare in horror at the invisible shards on the floor.

" _Ugh_ ," she said, and shoved the remains of the cake into his hands. Standing abruptly, she retrieved her bag, turned, and stomped out of the room without another word. A swift glance back in the doorway showed Klavier staring after her, perplexed, cake held awkwardly up in the air.

Ema snorted, and left.

Two years, and she still couldn't stand him – but at least this beat the flowers from last year. He'd be almost bearable by retirement, at this rate.

* * *

 **wordcount:** 600

erm... in case it's unclear, the two years are just for working together. they are far from a couple still.


	3. creature (64)

The witness blushed, stuttered, stumbled, blatantly stared agog – it was, frankly, awkward for everyone around her, though Klavier clearly was attempting to be graceful about it. Still, nothing he said seemed to work, and finally he had to outright leave the room for her to be able to function at all. Even then, she seemed preoccupied by his presence in the building, fretting over embarrassing herself in front of him and drifting off into daydreams more than once.

Fangirl had an airtight alibi, but much more of this and by god Ema'd find some minor traffic misdemeanor to nail her on.

Klavier emerged from hiding at the end of the interview to thank her, presenting her with one of those goddamn signed posters, and giving her a hug before sending her off in tears. He kept up a smile throughout, but it was still one of the worst displays Ema'd ever seen, to the point that her anger drained away despite herself.

"See, that's something I hate about you," she said. "What kind of magic spell did you cast to make these girls think you're some kind of mystical unicorn?"

Klavier's lips quirked up, and he held the door open for Ema to return inside.

"I don't think I've ever been called a unicorn, Fraulein," he chuckled. At her poisonous glare, he amended, "Such devotion is nothing unusual, for a rockstar."

"Stow the ego," she snapped, "I'm serious. That was creepy as hell."

"I'm her hero," he said simply. She scoffed, but Klavier only grinned at her. "Have you never met a hero and felt unable to manage yourself?"

The question irked her, felt like he was prying too deep. Ema knew he probably meant it innocently – he couldn't know that her hero had nearly convicted her sister of murder, but she remembered how she'd praised him to Phoenix, how little she'd understood him for all her admiration. In the end, he'd turned out to be a man worthy of her admiration, but…

"You're not a hero," Ema said, harshly enough that Klavier actually flinched. "No more than a unicorn, even if you do have the stupid horn."

"You wound me," he told her lightly, one hand lifting to twist the end of his hair a little tighter. He was still smiling, but his voice had gotten quieter.

Ema didn't care.

"People aren't heroes," she continued, slamming herself down into her desk and logging into her computer with harsh taps against the keys. "People are people, and it's stupid to pretend otherwise. Pretending otherwise doesn't do anyone any favors."

She hadn't noticed it enough as a teen, but Edgeworth's despair after her case had been terrible. Lana had destroyed herself and who knows who else to protect Ema's innocence, Phoenix was disbarred now and nearly as bitter as Ema herself. Klavier thought himself infallible and it was his greatest flaw – everyone held up as a hero suffered just as much from the misconception as the people putting them on the pedestal and forgetting their own worth. Ema'd never put it into words before, but she realized now that she hated heroes.

"I'm glad you see me as a person, Fraulein," Klavier said. He had a strange expression on his face. "But if you don't believe in heroes, why are you a police officer?"

"We're not heroes," Ema told him flatly. "All we do is clean up other peoples' messes."

He didn't have anything to say to that. Just bit his lip, hesitated, then walked away, leaving Ema scowling at her work.

Finally winning an argument felt no better than losing.

* * *

 **wordcount:** 600


	4. storm (51)

The lights flickered with the latest flash of lightning; thunder followed a bare second later, rattling the windows. Outside, the rain poured down with a vengeance: travel was definitely out of the question. Ema stood in the middle of the crime scene, munching on Snackoos with a furor to match the weather, focusing on the crunch of the chocolate between her teeth to distract her from being _stuck here_.

Flash, bang – the power went out entirely, that time. She couldn't help tensing. Ema wasn't scared of thunderstorms, but that didn't mean she liked them, either. They always reminded her of that night…

A blanket dropped over her shoulders, making her flinch slightly. Klavier smiled down at her.

"This is exciting," he said, eyebrows arched eagerly.

"What, camping out in a dead guy's house with no electricity?" Ema felt overly conscious of the shadows in the hallway behind her; deliberately didn't look over her shoulder to check them for movement. "Yeah, I'm over the moon about it."

"At least we're in good company?" he offered, ignoring her sarcasm as usual.

Ema snorted.

"Oh, fine," he said, then turned and left the room. Ema blinked after him for a moment, completely thrown – he never just _walked away_. He hadn't sounded upset, but, to just give up like that wasn't like him at all.

Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and she tucked her Snackoos back into her bag in favor of holding on to the blanket around her shoulders instead. She wondered where Klavier had grabbed it from. Why he'd given it to her at all – but it helped. Wrapping herself up in it lessened that itchy feeling between her shoulderblades, that illogical sense of someone lurking.

Ema took a deep breath and followed. He stood in the kitchen, scooping chocolate mix into two mugs. A kettle hissed.

"No marshmallows to be found, can you believe it? – but at least the stove's not electric." Klavier didn't bother to look up, and his voice was maybe a little too light. Ema frowned at him, biting back a comment about stealing from a dead man.

"Hey," she said instead. "Are you… uh. Sick, or something?"

Klavier's lips quirked. He sighed, then looked up, and Ema felt unaccountably awkward for some reason. It only got worse when he just stood there and _stared_ at her for a long moment; she felt twitchy, flushed and angry and confused.

"What?!" she finally demanded, hands tightening into the blanket. "You're –"

"You _do_ care," Klavier interrupted, picking up the kettle. He poured water into the mugs, mixed it, then picked them both up and approached. He was smiling brightly, and sidled up very close to her side to hand over her drink. His shoulder brushed up against hers.

"The hell – I don't."

"I'm going to sit on the porch and watch the rain," he said quietly, and tilted a small smile her way. "You're very welcome to join, Fraulein."

Ema, for reasons she refused to understand, flushed a deep red. She spluttered incoherently long enough that he had time to snicker softly into his mug and step out of the room. She stomped after him, slamming her butt down beside him on the porch swing hard enough that his drink spilled on his shoes.

Klavier's smile wasn't smug, like she'd have predicted – instead, he looked at her with genuine warmth. She turned away, stared at the rain.

It didn't bother her so much, like this. Sure, Klavier _sucked_ , but he was being quiet, and his arm and the blanket and the cocoa were all warm.

They sat out the storm.

* * *

wordcount: 600


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